Chapter 2 - The Dish Nobody Else Touched
Grant did not believe Thomas.
Why would he?
Men like Grant Mercer survived by assuming everyone wanted something from them.
Money.
Access.
Fear.
Thomas Vale apparently wanted attention.
Police arrived.
Then paramedics.
Grant refused the ambulance.
“I feel fine.”
Thomas replied:
“That’s because you didn’t eat it.”
The restaurant closed temporarily.
Guests were escorted out.
Molly sat in the manager’s office with an ice pack against her cheek.
Grant did not apologize.
Not yet.
He wanted proof first.
The first proof came twenty-three minutes later.
A paramedic swabbed a sauce residue because Thomas insisted.
The field test wasn’t definitive.
But it reacted to something abnormal.
Enough for police to seize the dish.
Grant looked at Thomas.
“How did you know?”
Thomas remained maddeningly calm.
“Because I cooked that plate.”
“And?”
“That wasn’t my sauce.”
The cod normally came with a pale miso glaze.
What hit the floor carried a faint almond smell beneath the garlic.
Thomas noticed when the plate passed the kitchen window.
He shouted for the runner to stop.
Too loud.
Dinner rush.
Nobody heard.
Molly did.
“What did you tell her?”
Thomas said:
“Knock the plate away.”
“With a radish?”
Molly called from behind them:
“It was the only thing in my hand.”
Grant turned.
Her cheek was swelling.
Something uncomfortable moved inside him.
He buried it.
“Who touched my plate?”
Kitchen tickets showed four people.
Thomas plated it.
Molly picked it up.
Busboy Tyler Graves carried water past her.
Assistant manager Derek Collins adjusted the silverware at Grant’s table.
Then Molly delivered the plate.
Thomas asked:
“Where’s Tyler?”
Nobody knew.
Police checked the employee exit.
Gone.
Locker half-empty.
Grant’s expression sharpened.
“There.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Too easy.”
“What?”
“If Tyler poisoned you, why run before anyone knew poison was involved?”
Grant stopped.
Thomas continued:
“Molly hit your plate. You got angry. Nobody said poison until after Tyler left.”
Meaning Tyler may have been fleeing for another reason.
Or someone warned him.
Then the general manager rushed in carrying a phone.
“You need to see this.”
Security video.
Kitchen corridor.
Seven minutes before Grant’s meal.
Tyler appeared.
But he never touched the plate.
Instead someone else entered the blind corner near the service station.
A woman.
Elegant coat.
Blonde hair.
Face turned away.
Grant went completely still.
May you like
He recognized the coat.
His wife owned it.
